First Impressions, or The Bodyguard
by LornaWinters
Summary: A prequel to "Clarity of Purpose." Stefan DeSeve from "Face of the Enemy," is assigned to be the bodyguard of a Romulan official's wife. Secretly, he is an undercover agent for Ambassador Spock. His mistake was to fall hopelessly in love with the woman he was supposed to protect.
1. Chapter 1

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

The two men shivered as they made their way down the streets of Romulus' capital city. They were both soldiers in the Romulan military. On that unseasonably cold night, one of them was on his way to a new assignment. Uhlan Stefan DeSeve listened carefully to his orders. "Ambassador Tævek requested you specifically," Subcommander N'Vek told him, "though I don't know why. You are to be the bodyguard for his new consort, Lady Ǽselin. I have agreed to it because it may be of some benefit to the cause."

The cause to which N'Vek was referring was that of Ambassador Spock's underground movement of dissidents. DeSeve had recently joined this group. He had grown weary of life in the Romulan Empire. Being a human, there were so few opportunities for him in the somewhat xenophobic society. In the twenty years he had served the Empire, he was never able to rise above the rank of uhlan, and it was not likely that he ever would. His conscience could no longer bear the deceptive and at times violent means the Romulan government used to obtain its ends.

"Unofficially," his superior continued, "you are to observe Tævek and determine whether or not he is a sympathizer. He is a friend of Vice-proconsul M'Ret, who is one of us, as you know. Once you have discovered his intentions, you are to report to me directly. You are under no circumstance to approach him. I repeat, you are there only to observe."

"Yes, sir," DeSeve acknowledged.

As they neared their destination, DeSeve perceived that Tævek was entertaining friends. He could hear music coming from inside the house. Was that a piano? The song being played was familiar to him, like a memory from a dream. They were received by the butler and led into a common room, where a human lady was playing—yes, it was a piano. Her melodious soprano voice filled the room, captivating all who were present.

_She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs_

_But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears._

DeSeve stood in the doorway, entranced. The musician was arrayed in an elegant white party dress. Her appearance reminded him of a princess from a fairy tale. She sat gracefully erect in her seat as she played the enchanting melody. Long, ebony-colored tresses spiraled down her back. Either it had been a very long time since he had seen a human woman, or she was by far the most exquisite creature he had ever seen.

_It was down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet._

_She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet._

_She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,_

_But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree._

The Ambassador Tævek and his guests applauded after the final chord. "That was exceptional, my dear," Tævek said, taking the lady's hand. "Your talents never cease to dazzle me. And I am now quite certain that this instrument was a wise choice as your wedding gift."

"You are too good to me, Tævek," she responded gratefully. Her gazed shifted to the direction of the visitors. DeSeve's heart nearly stopped when her alluring dark eyes fell on him. The two men stood to attention.

"Ah," Tævek said as he recognized the strangers, "Subcommander N'Vek. Glad that you could come."

N'Vek saluted the ambassador, "May I present Uhlan Stefan DeSeve, as you requested."

The ambassador explained to his wife, "He is to be your protector."

"But you're human," she exclaimed, as her astute cinnamon eyes peered curiously at him.

"DeSeve has been with us for nearly twenty years," said Tævek. "He came highly recommended by Vice-proconsul M'Ret. I thought he would help make the transition to life here easier for you."

She smiled fondly at Tævek, "You truly have thought of everything, haven't you?"

"My Lady, it is my job as both your consort and the ambassador to your planet to make you feel as at home as possible," he replied with tender indulgence. _And what planet is that? Surely not Earth…,_ DeSeve wondered.

Still smiling, she spoke to him again, "Parlez-vous français, Monsieur DeSeve?"

The uhlan had before been silent, as he knew not to speak until he was spoken to. The language sounded familiar to him, but much time had passed since he last heard it. "No, Lady…I never learned…French?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "I'm sure we will get along splendidly."

Forcing himself not to stutter, DeSeve bowed his head respectfully, "I will make certain of it, my Lady."

"Very well, Uhlan," said N'Vek, "you may make your vow."

DeSeve knelt, and with his fist to his chest, he recited his oath: "I pledge my life to Ǽselin. I swear from henceforth to serve and protect her until my death, or until I am released from this oath."


	2. Chapter 2

Before DeSeve knew it, a month had passed. He was still no closer to finding out exactly where Tævek's loyalties truly were. The answer finally came one night after dinner, when Lady Ǽselin asked her husband about the mysterious dissident movement she had been hearing about. DeSeve listened to the conversation carefully.

"They are a band of antagonistic traitors," Tævek informed his wife. "They are led by Spock, a Federation ambassador. And you know as well as I that the Federation will employ any means necessary to obtain an advantage over other powers. He is attempting to stir up the people in order to overthrow our government." Annoyed, he quickly shot down his drink. "It's damned exasperating."

"Did you say Spock?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," said the ambassador, "do you know him?"

"Why, yes," the woman replied, "I met him once when I was a child. He seemed to be a wise and discerning man. I am truly astonished that he would lead a gang of rebels. He negotiated our non-aggression treaty with the Federation, you know. I declare, if all of their ambassadors were like him, perhaps we would be more inclined to accept the Federation's invitations to join them. Sadly, they are not."

"My wife," Tævek admonished, "you must not speak of such things. It is dangerous because it sounds like treason. I am not questioning your loyalty, of course, but others might, and they are not as open-minded as I. You must be more cautious." DeSeve felt himself tense, for he knew Tævek was speaking of the Tal Shiar. The ambassador's bodyguard on the other side of the doorway was also noticeably affected. DeSeve had had his own personal dealings with the Romulan intelligence agency. Tævek was understandably concerned about his wife's well being.

Seeing that her comment had caused a stir, Ǽselin added diplomatically, "I'm sorry to hear he is causing you trouble, dear. Perhaps my judgment of him was clouded by my youth."

The Romulan smiled adoringly, "Your candor is a quality I greatly admire in you. I am proud to have a wife who is not afraid to speak her mind. It is just that I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you."

* * *

Ambassador Tævek's duties often took him away from their home in the capital city. Since Lady Ǽselin was still a new resident, she had not yet made any friends. Her acquaintances were the relatives and friends of her husband, who only visited when he was at home. And so it was that, more often than not, DeSeve was her only companion. There were, of course, the house servants. But they were there only in the mornings, and had little interest in speaking with her beyond what was required of them. As a result, the bodyguard and his charge developed a silent friendship. Often an entire day would pass without them speaking to each other, the main exception being morning and evening pleasantries.

One day, she asked her escort to show her the city. Her husband had not yet had the time to give her a tour. Besides, DeSeve's perspective would be decidedly different from that of an official tour. She was curious and eager to know everything about her new home. It was not in his job description, but he agreed to it, seeing how much it would please her.

DeSeve decided to take her to the market, since his limited knowledge of females told him that shopping was a favored pastime. He guessed correctly. No doubt the good ambassador had given her a considerable allowance, and DeSeve was at first concerned that they might spend a considerable amount of time at the market. He imagined that he would end up with a stack of packages taller than himself, walking through the streets like a stooge. The sight of two humans on Romulus was curious and noticeable in its own right. Mercifully, he was spared that slow death. She considerately examined the shops in a timely manner and chose a single book to purchase. Her practicality and restraint instilled in him a warm respect for her.

When he inquired about their next destination, she indicated that she would like to see his favorite place. So he led her to a large fountain, at the top of which was a sculpture that was meant to be an allegory of victory over the enemies of Romulus. "I often come here when I need inspiration," he said, surprised at himself for revealing unnecessary information.

"It is an exquisite work of art," she commented as she examined the water trickling down the many tiers. "You will probably think me impertinent, Uhlan, but I wonder if I may ask you a personal question?"

DeSeve was prepared for this. In fact, he had expected it to come much sooner. "Milady wishes to know why I left Starfleet?" He could tell she was barely containing her excitement. "I confess I have been consumed with curiosity these past six weeks," she said, her brown eyes widening solicitously.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat, and enjoying the realization that another person was hanging on his every word, "it is quite simple, really. I was looking for clarity of purpose. The Federation could not provide that for me. It seemed like for them everything was relative; there were no "rights" or "wrongs." No one cared about what they believed to be true or false. I witnessed hypocrisy in the dealings with certain cultures and races, while my superiors claimed to be morally superior to them. Perhaps you can relate to that, Lady, in your planet's dealings with the Federation, I mean?"

"I can, indeed, Uhlan. It is completely understandable. I think you did a brave thing."

The complement lightened his heart, and he found himself smiling. "Thank you, my Lady." Then, suddenly remembering where he was, he added, "You must be getting hungry. It is well past the midday meal. Am I correct in assuming that you would like this tour to continue to be 'unofficial'?"

"Yes, Uhlan," she said adventurously, with a sparkle in those lovely, dark eyes, "I would."

DeSeve took his dame to a corner eatery not far from the barracks where he had previously stayed before his current assignment. It was a respectable establishment, of course, but he suspected Tævek would have considered the place beneath him. At her insistence, he sat down with her. It was a breach of protocol, a lowly enlisted soldier eating a meal with a fine lady, but he obeyed her wishes nonetheless.

"So," she asked after they placed their order, "where are you from? Earth, I presume?"

"Brooklyn, my Lady."

"Ah, _Americain_, I thought as much."

When their order arrived, Ǽselin examined the dish with interest. "What did you say this was called?"

"Viinerine, Milady. It is a common dish in the military, though not likely to be served in your home." He watched with amusement as she daintily twirled the food onto her utensil and gracefully brought it to her mouth. She was so refined and sophisticated. The more time he spent with her, the more he imagined that she must be a princess of some sort. It would explain her arranged marriage to a Romulan ambassador, as well as her courtly mannerisms.

"What do you miss the most about Earth?" Another question. She was asking a lot of those. He reminded himself that this was not an interrogation; his lady simply wished to know more about the man with whom she spent a good deal of time, and who could potentially sacrifice his life for her one day.

"Umm," he said, trying to recall, "…_vorcha'ak, _I believe is the word?"

She shook her head. "My knowledge of the Romulan language is still limited, I don't understand."

"It's a dark brown drink, made from roasted beans, which are ground up…" he said, moving his hands as he attempted to describe it.

"Oh," she said knowingly, "you must surely mean coffee."

"Yes, coffee—that's it!" he said, beaming with delight.

By the time they arrived back home, it was just after sunset. They had spent the remainder of that afternoon talking at the restaurant. Afterward, they took a stroll through other streets the lady had not already seen. She immensely enjoyed her tour of "the other side" of Romulus. DeSeve had had the time of his life. His cheeks actually ached, as he was not accustomed to smiling so often. He never imagined that an aristocratic lady could get along so well with the lower classes. She had the ability to make everyone around her feel at ease and important. At the same time, she inspired everyone to be on their best behavior in her presence. In DeSeve particularly, she inspired selflessness and chivalry. More importantly, she made him feel he was successful.

* * *

Ǽselin's diplomatic duties were light, so she spent a good deal of her time reading and studying. She seemed to be an insatiable reader, addicted to the written word, in no matter what language it was written. When she was not pouring over intellectual materials or learning her adopted language and culture, she was reading stories of the sea, of shield maidens secretly going into battle, adventurous explorers, and anything else that captured her fancy.

Every afternoon, once the servants left, Ǽselin played the piano. Tævek had chosen his gift well, for she was as equally passionate about her music as she was about her books. It was DeSeve's favorite part of the day. He enjoyed watching her elegant fingers dance across the keys. She played everything from lively classical compositions, folk songs and dances, to haunting Celtic melodies. And when she sang, he often pretended she was singing to him.

After practicing her music, she would go to the gymnasium to work on the more martial arts. DeSeve discerned that it was while she exercised that she did most of her serious thinking. He never would have guessed she was such an accomplished swordswoman when he first saw her. She did not appear to be of the heroine type - at least not physically. While he admired her talent, however, he could tell she had never actually been in a real struggle for her life. And he was determined that she never would end up in that sort of situation if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

The Ambassador soon returned from his business sojourn, and he was greeted warmly by his spouse. Tævek held Ǽselin close to him, touching his forehead to hers. "I know our alliance was not what either of us planned for our lives, but for my part I have no regrets. And I want you to know I have every intention of earning your love."

"If you continue on your present course, it will not be long before you reach that aim, Tævek" she said sweetly.

"Then I shall make it my life's mission, my Lady."

DeSeve could perceive that his patrons' gracious fondness for each other was rapidly blossoming into romance. He was rather surprised, not being inclined to think that two people whose marriage had been arranged for them would have such an agreeable relationship. Though he did not want to be a partner in a union of state, he found himself wishing he was a part of so fortunate an espousal.

Truth to be told, he had never had much experience with relationships. He long ago decided it was largely due to the fact that he was not a handsome man. The women he was attracted to, especially Romulan women, did not seem to be attracted to him. He contended with this verity by adopting the attitude that women only complicated matters anyway.

Yet here he was, nearing midlife, and he had never been in love. It felt as though he had been denied an important life experience. His existence reminded him of _Cyrano de Bergerac_, which was one of the stories he recently heard Ǽselin read to her husband. (He vaguely recalled reading the play in school.) Sadly, DeSeve did not posses Cyrano's redeeming gift of eloquence, especially when it came to wooing a lady.

It was not long before Stefan DeSeve realized, to his dismay, that he had fallen deeply and hopelessly in love with the woman he was safeguarding. He was aware from the beginning that he was attracted to her; it was to be expected. He had not seen a human woman in twenty years, and Ǽselin was without question the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

What he did not see coming was that he would actually fall for her, and he berated himself for not having been more guarded. It was just his ill fortune, that the first woman he ever loved would be the one woman he could not have. He felt he had betrayed her, as well as Tævek.

And there were other factors that worried him. If his connections with the dissident movement were discovered, it was a very real possibility that his lady would be placed in danger. He wondered what he should do. Before, he was ready to beat a hasty retreat from Romulus and never look back. Now, he would be content to stay there forever, if it meant being Lady Ǽselin's protector.

He was determined, however, that no matter what happened, he would never allow any hint of his feelings to slip. He would carry out his duty, and bury his feelings deep in his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

One dreary afternoon, during Lady Ǽselin's daily music session, a visitor stopped in. Lady Arhel, Tævek's cousin, brought news of a plot to discredit the ambassador. DeSeve knew, that as a bodyguard, it was wrong to eavesdrop, but, he was under N'Vek's orders. It was a part of his job duties - albeit an unofficial one.

"Before my cousin was formally betrothed to you," Arhel explained, "a military officer named Sela, who ironically is half human, had an interest in him. But he spurned her advances in the hope that he would marry you, and therefore create an alliance with your world."

"Am I correct in assuming that this military officer didn't take it well, Lady?" Ǽselin asked her cousin-in-law.

"You are correct, Lady. As we speak, Tævek's loyalty is being questioned in the Senate itself. I need not remind you that if he is unable to prove his innocence, there will be unfortunate consequences for him politically."

"His position is at stake then?"

Arhel nodded affirmatively.

"But how can he prove his innocence if he is off world?" Ǽselin's temper was beginning to rise.

Arhel was sympathetic. "Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done at the moment. You must wait until he returns. I like you, Ǽselin. I confess I was at first opposed to your union with Tævek. Now that I have met you, however, I understand the wisdom of his choice. I came because I wished to warn you so that you would have ample opportunity to prepare yourself."

Lady Arhel, having completed her task, left soon afterward. Ǽselin sat still for a moment. She was seething. "We'll see about that!" she vowed softly as she narrowed her eyes. Without another word, she grabbed her cloak and was out the door.

Following her through the rainy streets, DeSeve coughed, "Ahem, my Lady, with the greatest respect, I would like to know just what you think you are doing."

"I won't let this happen. It's unjust," she said determinedly.

It was then that he became fully cognizant of her intentions. "My Lady, please," he beseeched her as he held a rain shield over her head, "I must strongly recommend that you not pursue this course of action." She could have no idea of the possible repercussions of what she was doing. His many years on Romulus had taught him it was perilous to meddle in politics. Most people avoided it at all costs and still managed to get into trouble. It was for this very reason that he had joined the dissidents. Why would she not listen to Lady Arhel's advice?

Her beautiful dark eyes flashed with anger. "I am going to put an end to this, Uhlan," she said, pointing at him authoritatively. "If you wish to protect me you will have to come along." There was no arguing with her. It would be fruitless to continue his objections. Her uncanny ability to disarm him with a mere look was baffling. He looked her directly in the eye for the first time as his powerful form tensed in frustration. "As you wish, my Lady," he said through gritted teeth, not even attempting to hide the agitation in his voice. It was the first time he had ever been miffed at his lady, and he felt horrible for it.

Since she was the wife of an Ambassador, she had little trouble getting into the Senate building. She had not the proper clearance, but her air of command brushed aside the guards' scruples. This was foolhardy. DeSeve was afraid—not for himself, of course—but for his unreasonably idealistic charge. DeSeve could hear the Praetor talking from inside the Senate chamber, "If there is no one to speak for Ambassador Tævek—"

"_I_ will speak for him," Ǽselin declared as she pushed the doors to the chamber open.

The Praetor glared at her. "And just who are _you_?" he demanded, bewildered. The point now came when DeSeve could do no more for his lady, so he stood just inside the doors with the other guards. He took note that Vice-proconsul M'Ret was mysteriously absent. Sela, conveniently, was there. It was well-known that she had an antipathy against humans because of her treacherous mother. She said nothing at first, as she felt she was assured of her own triumph.

The lady changed to a more respectful tone, "I am Lady Ǽselin, Praetor, the consort of Ambassador Tævek."

"How dare you barge into the Imperial Senate uninvited and unannounced?" cried an indignant Senator Vreenak. He was one of the most vocal of the warmongers who believed the Empire should invade the Federation.

"I meant no disrespect. But if there is an accusation against my husband, let it be made to his face, not in this cowardly fashion," she said shooting a challenging look toward Sela. "I beg you, Praetor and Senators, to not allow this injustice."

Commander Sela stepped forward. "She is human! She has no right to beg for anything!"

"But I _am_ a legal citizen of Romulus, and as such I will ensure that my consort is not denied his Right of Statement," she countered calmly.

The praetor said nothing, but paused to consider her request. Senator Cretak stood up. "She has great courage, and her request is not unreasonable. I believe we should consider it," she suggested.

"As much as I loath admitting it," said Vreenak, "I concur with Senator Cretak that the lady speaks correctly as far as the law is concerned."

"Very well, Lady Ǽselin," the Praetor said finally, "we will postpone this hearing until Tævek returns." DeSeve inwardly sighed with relief. He was well aware that there had been other forces at work behind the scenes. Commander Sela stormed out without another word. She was followed by her associate, who inspected Ǽselin from top to bottom on his way out.

The lady curtseyed respectfully, "Thank you, Praetor; Senators."

"Just a moment," Cretak asked curiously. "You were a leader on your world, were you not, my Lady?"

"Yes, Senator, I was a regent." _A regent?_ thought DeSeve in amazement, _So I wasn't far from the bull's-eye after all. _

"And you left your position and home in order to marry Ambassador Tævek," she said in wonder.

"Yes, Senator," Ǽselin answered proudly.

"Well, I have to admit I'm rather envious of Tævek," the Praetor commented as he leaned on the arm of his chair.

Ǽselin smiled at the compliment. "May I suggest, Praetor, from one leader to another, that you should reward loyalty rather than envy it?" It was a bold statement. DeSeve held his breath again, _Definitely royalty_.

Surprised again, but not displeased, the Praetor replied, "Well spoken, my Lady. But his loyalty remains to be determined."

"Of course. I thank you, again, Praetor and Senators." The praetor nodded to dismiss her, and she turned to go. DeSeve followed her out closely, satisfied that the matter was finally over.

"Well," he heard Senator Pardek say as they left the room, "there's no question where _her_ loyalties lie." The Senate rumbled with low laughter.

It had stopped raining when they left the Senate building. As he followed Ǽselin home, DeSeve desperately tried to think of ways to keep her from doing anything like that again. It hurt him deeply that he was still disgruntled with the woman he secretly loved and openly respected. Coupled with that realization was the painful knowledge that he had surely vexed her. Even though he knew he was not wrong, it was not worth it to him to have a rift between them. He came to the decision that he would apologize as soon as they arrived back at home.

They were passing by the gardens of the Cardassian embassy when a voice spoke to them. "I have never heard of anyone doing _that_ before," it said. DeSeve recognized Sela's centurion from the Senate chamber. He was sitting on the ledge of an ornamental pool.

"At ease, Uhlan, I mean no harm to your lady," the officer said.

"Your political affiliations would suggest otherwise, _sir_," said the soldier, countering his superior.

Ignoring her escort's threat, the man addressed the lady again. "You impressed Cretak, you know. You would do well to have her as a friend. Permit me to introduce myself," he said as he stood up confidently. "I am Centurion Bochra, at your service, Lady Ǽselin," he said, genuflecting.

"Save your flattery for your Commander," she snapped as she continued on her way.

Not deterred in the slightest, the Centurion followed. "I'd much rather flatter you," he said, stepping in front of her.

"I'm not interested," the lady retorted as she stepped aside and again moved past him. DeSeve knew his cue. Placing his hand on his disruptor, he gave Bochra a look, which informed the centurion that there would be consequences if he tried to follow her a third time. The Romulan heeded the warning, and called to her instead. "You think very badly of me, don't you?" he asked with concern in his voice.

Lady Ǽselin turned to answer. "I think you are a nasty little sycophant, Centurion. And someday you will receive your comeuppance." DeSeve pursed his lips together to keep from smiling. He was both amused and enamored of the witty spirit of his mistress, but he dared not show it.

"That is where you are wrong about me, Lady," the centurion informed her, visibly wounded. "I do not agree with my commander's actions. But as a soldier of the Empire I must obey her. Otherwise, I would never wish to offend so admirable a lady as yourself."

Exasperated, the gentlewoman demanded, "Enough of your infantile games! What do you want, Centurion?"

"Your forgiveness, my Lady. I would much rather have you as a friend than an enemy."

Ǽselin closed her eyes and exhaled, clenching her fists as she composed herself. "Very well, I forgive you. But friendship is something that is earned, Centurion."

"Then I shall endeavor to earn yours, Lady Ǽselin," he replied with approbation. "Jolan true."

Little did any of them know, the Cardassian gardener nearby was drinking in every word that was being spoken as he trimmed away at the verge…

* * *

DeSeve took his dame's cloak and put it away when they returned to their domicile. How should he begin? The encounter with Centurion Bochra had completely derailed his train of thought. As a result, he did not have the proper focus during the remainder of the walk back to prepare his request for pardon.

"Uhlan," she said as she held her head up.

"Yes, Milady?" He braced himself for what was surely going to be a scolding.

"I must apologize for putting you in an awkward position," she said softly.

"No, Lady, it is _I _who must apologize for my defiance," he replied fervently. "You did what you knew to be your duty."

"As did you. Please, let us be friends again?" she pleaded, holding out her hand.

"I will always be your friend, my Lady," he promised, taking her hand into his, "just as I will always protect you." He was gratified that the chasm between them was closed.

But he was once again in a conflict. He was well aware that his feelings for her were growing by the day. Avoiding her was not an option. But merely being in her presence was intoxicating, and he was beginning to fear that soon he would not be able to conceal what was in his heart for much longer. He tempered himself, however, by remembering that she did not return his sentiments. His amour included a sincere regard. If he truly cared for her, he scolded himself, he would think of what she wanted and not only of his own selfish inclinations.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, Ǽselin relayed the day's events concerning the attempted plot to Tævek. As the official was offworld, they communicated via the visual screen in his office. DeSeve could hear bits and pieces of the conversation from his place just outside the doorway.

"You have done well," Tævek's image on the screen said. "To tell you the truth, I am not surprised. I expected nothing less from a lady of your caliber." There was a good deal of pride in his voice.

The lady paused for a moment. "And I would do it for you again in an instant," she said.

"I will be home tonight, my dear. Do not wait up for me, though, as it will be quite late," he said with concern. "You must be fatigued after such a trying day."

They said their affectionate goodbyes, and she turned off the screen. Her escort followed her to the dining room, where she sat down to her evening meal. Ǽselin ate her dinner silently and alone. It was what she did every evening when her husband was off world. DeSeve guessed that she was pondering over her recent conversation. She seemed to be upset over something Tævek said to her. He wanted to sit with her and talk again as they had a few weeks ago, but he knew it was not a good idea. If he was going to continue to do his duty without slipping up, he must stick to protocol.

After dinner, she retired to the common room with one of her antique books. DeSeve knew her well enough by then that her book would cheer her up. And when the Ambassador returned, they would surely work out whatever their differences might be. As he watched her read, the bodyguard saw her expression soften as he predicted.

It was then that DeSeve remembered that he had his own communicating to do. Earlier that afternoon, Subcommander N'Vek passed him in the street and gave him the sign that they needed to talk. They had previously arranged that, when a situation such as this arose, they would meet in the garden behind the dwelling. Making the excuse of a call of nature, DeSeve left the room and instead quietly slipped outside. N'Vek was already there waiting for him.

"Your lady is quite tenacious, I hear," N'Vek remarked casually.

DeSeve chuckled nervously, "You have no idea, sir."

N'Vek was never one for much small talk, so he came right to the point, "So what have you found?"

"Tævek does not appear to be a sympathizer, sir. But from what I can tell, he does not suspect M'Ret."

"Hmm," N'Vek mused with disappointment. "We suspected as much…But, it was worth a try."

"Yes, sir."

"We need you for another mission, now, DeSeve."

"Another mission, sir?"

"Ambassador Spock wants you to deliver a message to Jean-Luc Picard, the captain of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_. You are to tell him to proceed to the Kaleb sector, where he will rendezvous with an old Antaresclass Corvallen freighter. This ship will be carrying a cargo that is very important to the future of the Romulans and the Federation. Picard is to take this cargo back with him to Federation space."

DeSeve was puzzled, "How will I be able to convince Captain Picard that I am telling the truth?"

"Tell him, the mission involves further 'cowboy diplomacy.' Picard will understand the reference." Seeing DeSeve's hesitation, he added, "Spock said that Picard is an honorable man, and he is certain the captain will ensure that your charges will be significantly reduced. It is certainly better than anything that would happen to you here if you were discovered."

The human shook his head, "That isn't it, sir."

"I don't understand you, DeSeve," said the subcommander, "I thought you wanted to leave Romulus. This is your chance. Why do you hesitate now?"

"I have taken an oath to protect the Lady Ǽselin," the uhlan answered firmly.

"We have all taken oaths, my friend. You must decide which ones are the more important."

"I cannot leave her," DeSeve insisted desperately.

Now N'Vek understood. "That is the very reason why you should leave her," he said candidly. "You are putting her, yourself, and the entire dissident movement in jeopardy! If you truly care for her, you will save her life by leaving Romulus. I tell you this as both your superior officer and your friend."

DeSeve paused. "You're right…" he finally admitted stoically. "I'll do it. When must I leave?"

"Tonight," the Romulan answered rapidly.

"Alright…" DeSeve felt his heart would shatter into a million pieces, never to be whole again. Years on Romulus had trained him to keep his voice even under duress, however. "She will soon go to bed. I'll leave after she falls asleep."

"Good," his superior said.

"N'Vek, if anything were to happen to her…"

"I will see that she is looked after," the other promised as he left the garden.

DeSeve sighed and walked back to the house. Stricken with anguish, he stopped on the doorstep and forced himself to relax his facial muscles. Ǽselin must not guess there was anything afoot. It would not be easy to fool her. She was so attractively clever. How could he tell her "goodnight" without her guessing that what he really meant was "goodbye"? Straightening his uniform, and clearing his throat, he opened the door and went back inside.

He did not get the chance to speak to her, however. She had fallen asleep in her chair, with her sea novel lying open in her lap. DeSeve was relieved that he would not have to try to deceive her after all. At the same time, however, his heart sank even lower when he realized that he would never again hear her sweet voice. He struggled to remember her last words to him. "_Please, let us be friends again…"_

He inhaled deeply in order to keep control over his emotions. This would not do. He could not leave her like this. It would be several hours before Tævek returned. If she had to be left alone, it should not be there. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms. It was the first and last time he would ever hold her.

Bringing her to the bedroom, he tenderly lowered her onto the bed, and covered her with a blanket. He took one last look, burning her beautiful features permanently into his brain, and felt a well-nigh irresistible urge to kiss her. But no, it would certainly wake her. Besides, he would never have done that without her consent. Locking it from the inside, he closed the door.

And Stefan DeSeve walked away, away from the woman he loved with all his heart, and from Romulus, never to return.

* * *

Ǽselin opened her eyes. Odd, she did not remember going to bed. Sitting up, she noticed she had not changed into her nightgown, but was still wearing what she had worn that day. The last thing she remembered was reading a book downstairs. How did she get here?

The sound of an object breaking crashed downstairs. Perhaps Tævek was now home and accidentally knocked something over?

"Uhlan?" she called to just outside the door. There was no answer. DeSeve must have gone to investigate the noise, she decided. Getting out of bed, she saw the door was locked—from the inside? She never locked the door. Something was fishy. She pulled out the small disruptor that Tævek kept in the bedside drawer.

Creeping gingerly down the stairs, she held the weapon behind her hip. The lights were still off. Instinct told her that ruled out Tævek or DeSeve as being the cause of the earlier commotion. For that moment, there was not a sound to be heard. Where was her protector? she wondered, commanding herself not to panic.

She tiptoed into the common room, where a harrowing shock was in store for her. On the floor was her awaited husband. He had been unquestionably murdered. "DeSeve!" she screamed as she backed away from the gruesome sight. In her fright, she stumbled over—another cadaver! It was Tævek's bodyguard. Scrambling to her feet, she tried once more to rush away from the appalling scene.

Instead, she collided into another man—a man who was very much alive. But he was not DeSeve. In the darkness, she could only make out that he was a Romulan soldier. She tried to struggle, but at first could not break free of his constraint. "Lady Ǽselin, you must listen to me!" his familiar voice said. Then, finally collecting her senses enough to remember her training, she managed to escape his grasp, and at the same time deliver an acute blow to his face.

Racing to the wall, she snatched her grandmother's sword from its display, and turned to face her attacker. He was Subcommander N'Vek, DeSeve's superior officer.

N'Vek patiently wiped the olive-colored blood from his mouth. "Do you remember me?" he asked.

"Where is DeSeve?" she demanded instead of answering his question. She did not trust him as far as she could have thrown him.

"He has been reassigned, my Lady. He sent me in his stead."

"I don't believe you! _You_ killed him, just like you killed Tævek! And tonight, you will die, Subcommander," she informed him as tears of desperation began to roll down her face. She had every intention of hacking him to pieces for what he had done.

"No," he alleged, pointing to the second corpse on the floor, "_he_ killed Tævek, and he would have killed you, had I not stopped him. We must go now. DeSeve has left, Lady, and your consort is dead. You have to trust me now. Sela will surely send more assassins."

"Why should I believe you?" she persisted, still convinced he was lying.

"Because if you don't, you will not leave Romulus alive," he said grimly. "Assuming you even escape from this house, Commander Sela will accuse you of having Tævek assassinated in order to advance yourself. His family will claim the Right of Vengeance, and you will be hunted down and executed." N'Vek reformed his voice to a tone that was less harsh. "If I were going to kill you, I would have done so already."

He had a point. Ǽselin slowly lowered her sword. She shifted her gaze back to the body of her husband. _ I know our union was not what either of us planned for our lives, but for my part I have no regrets. And I want you to know that I have every intention of earning your love. _A wave of agony traversed over her as she remembered Tævek's words, and she began to sob softly, covering her face with her hand.

Apparently not accustomed to tears, the Romulan officer bit his lip. "My Lady," he said as gently as he could manage, "I sympathize with your loss, but there is no more time. Please, compose yourself and let us leave. Now."

He was right. Summoning strength from her upbringing as a leader, she wiped away her tears. With her head held high, she sheathed her sword, and met N'Vek's eyes with a mask of cold detachment. "Lead on, Subcommander," she said evenly.

N'Vek nodded in silent approval, and they left. Lady Ǽselin did not look back as she stepped out of her spent consort's home and into the night. She was a widow now. Her brief life on Romulus, along with her marriage, had come to an end. It was in that moment, when her entire world had collapsed around her, that she vowed she would rely solely on herself for strength and protection in the future.

Now, she would return home to her people.


End file.
